


Club X

by deathmadeyoubeautiful



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: A lot of sex, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Bisexual Stiles Stilinski, M/M, Underground Clubs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-17
Updated: 2015-07-17
Packaged: 2018-04-09 18:47:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4360250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathmadeyoubeautiful/pseuds/deathmadeyoubeautiful
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Love isn't real and Peter Hale can't prove Stiles wrong, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Club X

When I woke up my head was pounding and when I tried to open my eyes the light coming through the curtains made it worse. Squinting I sat up rubbed my eyes, bending over I reached for my pants and boxers. After putting them on I look around the floor for the rest of my clothes and not seeing them I smiled feeling a bit accomplished. Once I open the bedroom door I recognized the loft immediately. As soon as I spot my shirt I pull it on roughly and grab my boots and jacket leaving quickly. Once outside – after tripping and stumbling down the stairs trying to get my boots on – I pulled my jacket on and took out a cigarette and left like a bat out of hell. Peter Hale. They told me to be wary of him that he’d eat me alive.

\--------------

We were lying beside each other breathing hard. I turned and cuddled into his side and he leaned into me and whispered into my ear “I love you.” Without a second thought I got up and got dressed. I was on autopilot. I got dressed and left it was still pretty early as I smoked cigarette after cigarette on my way home, Peter’s bouncing and echoing in my head. Being so big they blocked out everything else, they were heavy enough to keep my mind from wondering. One I made it home I had five cigarettes and my hands were shaking. Thankful I didn’t have classes that day I went to bed to sleep off my hangover.

Several hours later I woke up and checked my phone to see if Peter had called or texted in the time I was asleep. I didn’t have any missed calls or texts. I showered feeling numb, I don’t know why I feel like this. I don’t how he even–. I shut my brain off as I got out of the shower and got ready for work. The same place where this started, damn cafes. I put headphones and ignored the world until I got to work called “The Café Bean”. As soon as I walked through the doors and plastered on a fake smile greeting my co-workers as made my way to the back to put on an apron and head to the front to make coffee. The day went by in a blur customer after customer. And that’s how life went for the next four months. It was blurry and numb. That was life without Peter.

\--------------

It’s been half a year and ever since Peter told me he loved me, I felt numb. Like I left my self in bed with him when I left that morning. Since I left he plagued me. I thought I would be happy without him, that it’d be simpler. That’s when Marissa finally asked me what was wrong. “Stiles, I’m sick of the shit. What’s up with you?” I looked up at her, quickly wondering how long she was biting her tongue. How long I’ve been so obvious about my emotions. Sighing I let the flood gates open and told her everything, as I was talking a girl walked through scantily clad. She was beautiful; she looked like she was from Club X. After she ordered I continued, “Then he told me he loved me and I left.” Marissa looked at me like I had killed her puppy. “What? Why?” “I don’t want to be tied down. I don’t want to spend the night in watching movies and then go to bed. Having sex three times a week.” I finished as I handed the girl with curly hair her drink, when she interrupted “I know it’s none of my business who my barista is sleeping with but. You have to ask yourself ‘Is he worth it?’” Taking her cup she left, I thought about that for the rest of the day. When I got home I realized that I didn’t know enough to know if he was. After changing into sweats I pulled out a bottle of bourbon, a tumbler, my pack of cigarettes, and sat on the couch with the TV off and thought. I thought about the kind of relationship I had with Peter if I wanted more, why he did. After my fourth or fifth drink – I had lost count – I called Peter. After the third ring he answered. “Stiles?” I took a breath and tried not to slur my words “Come over we need to talk.” There was a pause, “Okay.” And he Peter hung up. I dropped my phone onto the coffee table and laid down waiting for him.

Some time later there was a gentle knock on my door. Getting up I realized how drunk I really am. I opened the door and used the little will power I had to not through myself at him, instead though I moved out of the way and let him in. He stared at the virtually empty bottle and the ashtray over flowing with cigarette buds. After we sat down on the couch I looked at him. “Peter, I know you love me.” He opened his mouth to speak but, I raised my hand and continued. “I like you. More then I’m willing to admit even when drunk. I want to try though, I figured it wouldn’t hurt to spend a day with you. To learn about you, I wanna try this and see.” As I spoke my words became more and more slurred, sighing Peter took my hand in his and held it. With a hopeful look in his eyes and sad smile he spoke. “We’ll see how you feel in the morning.” With that he picked my up bridal-style and carried me to bed. After tucking me in he smiled sadly again and began to pull away. Latching a hand on to his sleeve I said, “Don’t go. I’ll feel the same in the morning. Please, stay.” Sighing out a chuckle he began to take his jacket off and got undressed before getting into bed next to me. Pulling me close he wrapped an arm around my waist and nuzzled the side of my neck, feeling warm I drifted. Finally getting to sleep.

When I woke up it was bright out, thanking the heavens that I didn’t have class that day I sat up. Feeling strong arms around my middle I looked over to see Peter’s freshly awoken face. He looked up at me but didn’t bother to move and I didn’t try to run. “Do you remember what you said last night?” Looking down I shook my head slowly as it came back. The drinking, the phone call, and most importantly what I had said. What was keeping us both from running again.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know if this is too confusing I wasn't too sure on the layout


End file.
